Keena tristan and isolde
by MY MInD
Summary: My Sequal to tristan and isolde. She is the daughter of Isolde. Who is the father? Oh but that isn't the main question. More like who is this mysterious man and why does he know who her father is? writing this for a good friend of mine. Ratings will
1. Keena

"Mamma!"

Held back by strong arms, a young girl with piercing blue eyes wailed as her mother was taken away. She was no more than 5 years old and she had no clue why her mother was being carted off in that rickety wooden cage on wheels. She looked up at her father with red tear stained eyes and couldn't understand why he wasn't helping her mother. He did nothing, but held her back.

"Daddy, why won't you do anything?" she cried.

"You're mother has made a big mistake," he said, "she has to go now."

"I hate you!" she yelled back.

The girl continued to sob as the cart began to roll away from her. From within it a beautiful woman with long blond hair and clear blue eyes looked back at her little girl for the last time. When one looked into the eyes of this woman, one might feel an overwhelming power. They were eyes that had seen so much and shed so many tears, it seemed as if they could barely give another. Yet as the little girl continued to scream, "mamma!" the woman could not help but let one more escape from her glistening eyes and travel down her smooth white cheek.

"Oh, Keena!"

Instead of her usual morning routine of chatting with the villagers and taking a stroll through town, Keena needed to get away. The night before, her father, King Marke had made a very unsettling announcement to her. She stormed through the central market ignoring the inquiries of the towns people and finally made it to the woods. She would often walk along these woods whenever she needed to think. The trees were grey and knotted and seemed to close around her hiding her from the world outside. Her father was to announce a second. He has just turned 58 last night and there was a huge celebration. It was then that he made the announcement. From what she had heard, it had been 18 years ago, her birth year, since he had had a second in place. There was something, some bad experience, that had been holding him back and Keena had no clue who could have gained his trust at this point. What was odder was the fact that he had seemed very distraught about the whole thing. It was like he was in a trance. His face had been paler than usual as he stood up at the table and held up his glass to make the announcement. He still seemed so strong and regal standing there, his black hair graying around the sides and his dark eyes, so different than Keena's clear blue ones, were as intense as ever. His speech was deliberate and he refused to disclose who the second would be, just that he had someone in mind. Afterwards while everyone was dancing and celebrating he had pulled Keena aside.

"Now, this man will be King someday, Keena," he had said. "You are old enough to be married by now."

"Father," she had gasped with indignation, "Do you actually expect me to simply marry this man just for the sake of the crown?"

"I expect you to marry him for the sake of England," he had said sternly, "The people have always loved you and you need to become a leader for them. You are, after all, part Irish and you are all we have sometimes to keep that unstable peace."

"I don't feel part of anything," she said stubbornly folding her arms. Her pouting face was almost enough to make her stern father feel sorry for his decision. "If you don't recall, I barely even knew my mother." A familiar pang hit King Marke after hearing his daughter's words. She looked so much like her mother, the same eyes, and the same smile. But her bone structure was harder, and her hair was a familiar honey color.

"You mother was a noble woman," he said, "She would have done the same for the sake of peace. She did do the same for the sake of peace."

"She did what?" Keena had never heard her father talk about her mother before, though she had pleaded with him many times. Sometimes she got small tales about her great beauty or kindness, but nothing more. Her father always seemed to treat it as a sore subject. Something significant had happened in the past that still hurt her father. Keena had sensed it for a while now. It was something to do with her mother; she was sure. It also seemed to distance him from her. It was almost unnoticeable but sometimes Keena would catch her father looking at her with a troubled look, deep in thought.

It seemed as if tonight she would only receive this small bit of information about her mother.

"Consider yourself betrothed, Keena. You owe it to your country," he said ignoring her previous inquiry.

"Father!"

"No more questions. Now, it's time you get some sleep."

He didn't need to tell her. The only thing she wanted to do at that moment was to run to her room as if she was a little girl again and cry herself to sleep.

Now as she strolled through the forest, Keena came upon the remains on an old bridge. The villagers had told her that years ago forbidden lovers, who were inflicted with a powerful love potion, used to meet at that bridge. One day they burned down the bridge in hopes to ignore their love and end the affair, but their love was insuppressible. They were caught and the man was exiled from the kingdom where he later became a knight, or so the story went. Keena had always loved that story. Though their love was the product of potion, the idea of such passion seemed so exciting and wonderful. She would often sit there dreaming of her own great romance. Then the same thought that had been reoccurring since the night before crept back into her head. What if he was tall, handsome, kind, and cunning? What if her husband to be was the man of her dreams that could fulfill these fantasies? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she banished it. He was probably some big hulking idiot who would take advantage of her. Either way, she didn't want to think that she even needed a man to get by in this world. She wanted to be independent and this man was not going to stand in her way. Even with her need for self-sufficiency, part of her still dreamed of having a strong shoulder to lean on.

Something curious happened just then. She had been walking away from the path and into the woods when her foot stepped on something that sounded more like wood than earth. Keena bent down to examine the area beneath her. To her surprise it lifted up into a passage way. The adventurous side of her took over as she slowly lowered herself into the passageway. Surprisingly, the light from the opening had flooded the passageway and she was able to see clearly for quite some distance. Keena maneuvered her way through the narrow walls of earth until the passage opened up into what looked like a chamber. To her shock, the place looked inhabited. There was what seemed to be like a bed mat in the corner and crops hanging along the opposite wall. There was a pot and a hole above it where more light was flooding in. Fear and excitement welled within her. Who could possibly be living here? And what if they found her? She knew she could be in serious danger at this point, but her curiosity was itching for her to move on and see the rest of the passage. So she moved on out of the room, where the walls became narrow again. It started to get darker the further she moved. The light was dim, but not completely dark when the path finally opened up again and ended. There were three giant steps of earth leading to another wooden opening. She moved to examine where the passage lead when suddenly she heard movement behind her. Slowly, she turned around, her heart racing. Something was moving in the shadows of the camber. Finally she spotted the silhouette of a man and her breath hitched. He walked forward and came into view. He was thin, and tall, with long dark brown hair hanging in an unruly mess around his head. Beneath his overgrown beard and the grime on his face, he seemed to have very strong features. His eyes were even darker than her father's. They seemed to glisten with a wild look that half entranced her and half frightened her.

Finally he spoke in a raspy voice that seemed as if it hadn't been used in days, "Keena."

She froze in her spot and felt suddenly faint, "h-how do you know my name?" Her voice shook but she was determined not to appear weak and held her head high. He laughed. It was a surprisingly rich laugh that seemed to absorb into the earth around them giving it life.

"You're so much like your father," he said, eyes twinkling.

Keena looked at him in confusion. She had never thought she resembled King Marke. "How so?"

"You're adventurous," he said stepping up the great earth steps in order to better look at her. "And you are brave, just like him. You know that is why they named you Keena. It is Irish like your mother and means brave."

"I didn't know that," She said wondering both who this man could be and what she should do next. If he wasn't trust worthy, she could always try to run. Fighting him would be useless, for lean as he was she could see muscles peaking out from his ratty tunic. He was much too close for her to make an escape so she decided to stay.

"Keena, there are a lot of things you don't know," he said and her confusion multiplied, "but I will let you onto one thing."

"And that is?" she said, confidence returning to her voice.

He smiled and oddly enough it had quite a charismatic effect on her. "That is, where this passageway leads. Continue on through that opening and you will find yourself in the lowest level of your castle. Now go and please don't repeat what you have seen here. You will find out more about me soon enough, but for now it is best if you pretend you never saw me."

Though her curiosity was ten fold, Keena decided it would be wise to simply do as he said. She still had no clue who he was after all. To her delight, she did indeed find herself back in her castle upon exiting the passageway. She quickly made it back to her bedroom trying not to attract to attention of any servants. Keena flopped down on her bed of warm furs, letting down her long honey colored hair. The sun came in from a nearby window, tickling her feet with its warmth. For the first time since last night, Keena was not thinking about her engagement. With all the questions that mysterious man had provoked, there was no way she could think of anything else. He had known who she was. True, most the villagers did, but this was way different. He had known her mother. He knew her father. Something in those twinkling eyes told her that he knew some great secret that concerned her. After a while Keena drifted into a comfortable afternoon nap, the image of that mysterious man and his smile drifting through her head.

A/N: Ok… first chapter up. I'm sure you are all wonder who the mystery man is. Well you won't find out till next chapter! Muhahaha! Heh, next time I will try to add a lot more; it is hardly interesting at this point. This is for you, Liz, so you better be liking it! I'm actually having a lot of fun with this. If you know the actually Tristan and Isolde myth, then you can see how I tried to make it tie in with the moive (something the movie failed horribly at doing). This story will be like 1 million times better than that silly movie… ……you just wait.


	2. Melot

Keena was walking through the halls on her way to breakfast when she overheard her father and one of his advisors talking. Something about the tone of their voices drew her to linger outside the doorway.

"I just don't see how it could be possible!" exclaimed Lord James Strousse, who had been a faithful right hand man to King Marke since he had first come to power.

"It is only right he takes the position now that he is back," spoke the King in stoic booming tones, "I just don't know if it will cause too much shock for those who knew about his death."

"They were confusing times, my Lord," said Strousse, "Tristan came back from the dead after all, and they received him with celebration."

"Tristan was quite the hero," King Marke sounded bitter.

"I'm sorry my Lord, I know you don't like to talk about him, but Melot holds him in such high regard, I doubt his memory will be hushed once he returns."

"Yes, Melot tells me it was redemption that gave him a new life… and that Tristan was to blame!" he spat these last words, "I owe it to my own blood to do what I must. I just thought I put all of this in the past a long time ago."

"Forgive me my Lord, but Tristan did die for our kingdom after all. Why must we continue to shun his legacy? You used to tell our people that it was a glorious thing—

"James!" the temper in his voice was enough to send lions into stupor. "Have you forgotten the blasphemy that has disgraced this castle because of him?"

"Please, my Lord," James' voice was weak but brave, "Keena does not deserve to be thought of as a disgrace."

"She is a bastard child and there is no denying it. Still, I raised her as my own loving her as a father must. Perhaps I would be more understanding if it wasn't the first time I had taken a child into my care, and ended up loving it immensely. The first time I was betrayed beyond belief. I know my daughter," he seemed to choke on these words, "has considerable strength of character, but I am a bitter man these days. I'm sorry James. I know you cared about Tristan and probably hold Keena in an even greater regard, but I will not have you dig up the past like this. You must not speak the name Tristan in my presence EVER again. Understand?"

"Certainly my Lord," said Strousse, "I am very sorry to have troubled you."

As their conversation drew to a close Keena knew she had to get out of sight. Silently, she raced back to her room. Her throat felt as if it had been twisted into a million knots. A bastard child! Is that what she was? She paced her floor feverishly. So King Marke was not her father. This realization along was a tough pill to swallow. It made sense, she had to admit. Those times he had stared at her with a dark look, it was all because she was not his. She was the result of some deep rooted betrayal. And who was Tristan? Suddenly another realization dawned on her and slumped onto the floor, mouth gaping.

Her father's name was Tristan.

She sat there for a long time, just staring forward, the pain thundering against her ears like a constant pang of resentment. Her life had been a complete lie! Finally she heard one of the maids come up to check on her. Slowly she stood, as to not cause alarm.

"Princess Keena," said Bragnae, who had almost been like the mother Keena never had. Bragnae had been a servant in the castle for as long as Keena had been alive. Anything that Keena knew about her mother came from this woman. It was a forbidden subject, but sometimes she would let things slip. Such as the fact that her mother, Isolde, was once considered the most beautiful woman in Ireland, or that Bragnae herself had raised Isolde after Keena's grandmother had died during Isolde's childhood. Keena could tell that Bragnae still thought of Ireland as her home. "Everyone is wondering why you haven't come down for breakfast yet."

"Forgive me, Bragnae," said Keena mustering up the sleepiest and most nonchalant voice she could muster, "I suppose I slept a little later than usual."

"You are upset, aren't you?" asked Bragnae seeing through her cover.

"I, uh, I mean," What could she say? She had always been a terrible liar, "I suppose you are right. I hear my father wants to plan my marriage with his second and I am not particularly fond of the idea." It was true, after all. Though this problem of hers felt like less of a burden compared to her new understanding of her life.

"Oh child," Bragnae held one wrinkled hand to Keena's cheek, "You know, I shouldn't be telling you this, but you mother has faced the same situation; twice in fact."

"King Marke said something to that effect last night, but twice? Really?" Keena was becoming desperate for more answers these days.

"Aye, the first was killed, and for good reason, he was a brute. And the second………" Bragnae closed her mouth in a thin line. In her old age she was becoming more careless.

"King Marke!" gasped Keena. She was beginning to understand why this story of her past had been kept from her for so long.

"Heavens, no child!" said Bragnae sternly, "What a preposterous idea!" But Keena was more than certain it was a cover. Perhaps if she had said this before the incident that morning, Keena would have bought the lie, but now she was wiser. "Anyhow, enough stories. Come with me so we can get some food in you!"

Keena obeyed following the old woman down the stone steps of the castle. Throughout breakfast she was deep in thought. When King Marke struck up conversation, she acted a pacified as possible showing no hint of the pain and anger mounting within her. The day passed slowly. She mindlessly helped the servants of the castle with their everyday chores. She felt numb. By dinner the act was beginning to wear thin. She had had the entire day to think about the exchange she witnessed this morning and what it meant about her life. She still needed answers. As King Marke and his knights began to discuss the current disputes between tribes in England, Keena tuned out the masculine murmur to return to the thoughts she had been a slave to that entire day. Suddenly something new struck her. That mysterious man in the passageway had known who her father was. There was a chance he could have been referring to King Marke, but something in the way his eyes glittered as his spoke made Keena certain that he had known the truth. That man knew Tristan, and Keena was going to do whatever it took to see him again. She didn't care if he had asked her to stay away, or about the possibility that this strange man could be somehow dangerous to her, she was desperate. Keena was going to get answers tonight and that was a solid fact as far as she was concerned.

It was late when she snuck out of her room and into the base floor of the castle. She had been driven with determination that helped her find ways to sneak past the many guards. After all, who would care about someone moving through the castle, all they were concerned about was keeping people out? She lit a torch and descended through the trap door that lead to the passageway. It was silent when she landed quietly inside, except for the chirping of crickets. She moved through the earthy cave with stealth until sure enough she saw a man asleep on the bed matt she had observed the day before. She knew that she should be waking him and questioning him, but something about how beautiful and defenseless he looked as he slept held her transfixed. She swallowed hard and tried to banish the thoughts, but there was no way she could deny that this was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Suddenly her heart rate increased and her palm started to perspire against the wood of the torch. What had she gotten herself into? She didn't know this man for once thing and for another, she certainly did not appreciate the affect he had on her.

"What are you doing here?" his dark masculine voice cut through the atmosphere of the mossy room so defiantly that she let out a yelp of surprise. It was then that he decided to slowly open his inky black eyes and sit up against the earth wall.

"y-you're awake."

"And you should be asleep," he said regarding her with a look of curiosity and what appeared to be faith delight.

"I, uh," She had to get a hold of herself and complete the mission at hand! Keena closed her eyes briefly beckoning the emotions that had driven her to visit him and looked up with determination in her eyes, "I want answers."

His eyebrows rose at the difference in her tone. So something serious was bothering her. The mysterious man contemplated the possible things that could have inspired such words. "I'll only answer to questions," he said.

"Tell me about my father," she looked at him with intense blue eyes that made his heart flutter for a moment.

"What about King Marke?" his worlds sounded slow and calculated. She knew he was lying! Lies, lies, everyone was lying too her! Keena shoved the torch into a knotted vine on the wall and then moved down so she was kneeling directly in front of the man.

"Tell me about Tristan," she said in a low voice. And the battle of steady eye contact began. Her crystal blue eyes were fueled with an intense desire to know the truth, while he steadily stared back at her with a look of both concern and reluctance. He was obviously under orders to keep this a secret just like everyone else. That though inspired another. "And who exactly are you? Why is it that you feel the need to keep secrets from me like everyone else?"

At this he surprised her by snickering, "I supposed pretty soon it would be wrong for me to keep secrets from you."

"What?" she said indignantly, "Damn-it! Why does everything have to be such a mystery!"

"Woah," she said grasping her shoulders, "I'm sorry I have to be so indirect with you, but there are other people I need to appease these days." The sudden contact brought a shiver to her spine.

"You mean my father –I mean, Kind Marke." She looked downwards leaning slightly into his proximity. "You are just another caught up in the fake reality he has devised to keep him content and me absolutely clueless!"

"Keena, please," His hands traveled down her arms till her was holding her hands in his. He looked at her with honesty and concern. "Tristan was not only the greatest, most gallant warrior of England, but he was like a brother to me. I made the mistake of betraying my trust in him, but even with that knowledge he never broke our bond of brotherhood. I owe Tristan my life. God gave me a second chance at life after he died. My regret was so strong that the will to try again was heeded. Tristan was there, his angel came to me, he gave me his strength and I was reborn with the intentions of living a life more worthy of the greatest man I ever knew."

For some reason beyond Keena's understanding, she felt her eyes well up with tears. She sniffed and lifted her chin determined not to cry.

"You must be Melot," she said putting together pieces of the puzzle.

"He told you?" asked Melot, receiving a surprise of his own.

"No, I," to Keena's dismay she began to choke on her words, "I over heard him talking." She tried not to cry but it was too late. Keena attempted to turn away, but found that Melot was making it an impossible escape as he pulled her towards him. Finally she collapsed into his chest crying for the first time since that morning. "He called me a bastard child, Melot! My entire life has been lies!"

"I know, It's ok now," Melot whispered other sweet nothings to her as he gently stroked her silky hair. He knew it was wrong to be holding the princess like this, but his heart felt for this poor girl. The way he had witnessed her rage turn to tears nearly broke his heart. His new chance at life had made him a humble man. Generally he had stayed away from women and focused on living as Tristan would have admired. Training, yet only using violence when absolutely necessary. Deep down, Melot knew that Tristan would want him to fall in love as passionately as he once had, but Melot had been reluctant. He didn't want to treat this new life as a game, and love seemed selfish. To make matters worse, he now felt himself falling in love with Tristan's own child. Would Tristan appreciate it? Tristan had given him life. This certainly wasn't what he meant by living life to the fullest, or was it? Keena's tears began to subside so Melot took this chance to break away. He held her apart at arms length. The moment he felt her warmth leave his chest, she looked back at him with such sad eyes that it took all the will power he could muster to say, "Keena, you must get back." She sniffled and nodded, as the rose together. "Try not to tell anyone about this," he said, "I don't want King Marke to get upset about anything."

"Right," she said. Suddenly color rushed to her cheeks. "Oh god, I'm such a foolish girl! I can't believe I acted so childish just then!"

"Keena," said Melot, somehow unable to remove his hands from her shoulders, "You have a right to be upset. Never be afraid of your tears, they will only make you stronger in the end. You father was never afraid to cry."

Her eyes lit up for a moment, "Melot, do you think I could ever be as great as him?"

Melot smiled. It seemed to give his features new life. "You already are."

For a moment they stood there smiling at each other, until suddenly Melot's smile faded to a darker expression. He let go of her and stepped back. "You should go now."

Keena couldn't deny the sinking in her heart as he did this. "Right," she said in a considerably more stoic tone. She turned to leave, but not with out looking back at him once before ascending into the castle. He had a look of guilt, confusion and longing written over his face.

Authors Note:

Krazisoapluvnreject and Kal's Gal Thank you so much for your reviews… considering there is no real section for Tristan and Isolde, I am not too surprised that only 2 reviewed. Figures I decided to update on a night I have a crap ton of homework to do. Yes, a crap ton. Well I hope whoever is reading this has enjoyed it so far. I sorry if there are typos, I guess I am kinda in a rush. Give me any feedback or ideas if you want.

Thanks again,

Rebecca.


	3. Torin

Another day of going through the motions………

But this day was different for Keena. This day smelt different, the air was thinner, the sun shone in a new color, and Keena's mind was that much broader. She had been hurt, she had been shocked, but now there was a new emotion settling in her. Love. As much as she tried, she couldn't help but think about the man that held her the night before. The name Melot would not cease repeating itself over and over in her mind. Those eyes and those strong hands had left a mark on her that carried her thorough the day.

So King Marke chose to lie to her. She knew that her father had betrayed him, but somehow she didn't blame him. She would have to lie to King Marke. That was how he seemed to want things after all. Her mind was set in determination; she would say the things King Marke wanted to hear so he would never suspect what she really knew. She would marry Melot and through him find out more about Tristian. Deep down she knew there were other good things about marrying him, like the fact she was starting to fall madly in love with the man dwelling underground, but she refused to let those thoughts drive her decision. Say Melot was only doing this for King Marke. She had been hurt once and rejection was not something she wanted to face. Especially not from Melot. Yes, she would use him to learn about Tristian and Isolde and one day, once Melot rises to power and she becomes queen, Keena would resurrect their memory. Her father might be gone for good, but that wasn't going to stop her from getting to know him.

"Keena, darling!" Suddenly the voice of King Marke interrupted her thoughts as he stopped her in the castle hallway. "Where have you been all morning? There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Just taking a stroll, father," she said watching his reaction closely to her chosen address.

He smiled slightly unable to look at her as anything but a daughter and said, "have you thought about what I said a few nights ago? I will be announcing my second in two days but before that we are having the royal family over from Ireland."

This was a new development for sure. "Why? We are still on peaceful terms, right?" There we many grim possibilities that came along with a visit from the Irish.

"Actually, we are on very peaceful terms at the moment. In fact King Matthias is coming to announce his second along with me. Because his son died of influenza last month it was decided that his nephew, Torin would be the future kind of Ireland. We will be having a great ceremony and the Irish will stay for about a week."

"That sounds lovely," smiled Keena, "it will be nice to have English and Irish together rejoicing with no war or male intent."

"I agree, but Keena, still be careful. You can never really trust an Irish."

With that he marched out, cloak flailing behind him.

!&Y)))))))))

(that was supposed to be a page break…)

In what seemed like no time the Irish had arrived and been welcomed into the castle. That night they had a dinner to celebrate. That is when Keena met Torin.

They were formally introduced and took their seats, the Kings immediately going into a conversation of government and leadership. They politely listened to each other's opinions over sips of wine. Tension was apparent but they still seemed to enjoy eachother's difference in opinion.

While this went on, Keen looked across the table to her to meet the startling green eyes of Torin. He smiled at her and winked. Keena gave a feeble smile back and continued eating staring at her plate. Torin was startling. That was the best way to describe him. His hair was fair colored and curled into his well chiseled face. Even so there was darkness to him. His eyes looked like they were lined with kohl, his lashes were so thick in black and his face was spotted with light tan freckles that you could only distinguish when you were up close to him. From a distance it made him look tan and healthy and up close he was simply charming. There was the aura of charm that radiated off him. Keena was almost afraid that if she looked up she would get caught in it and never be able to escape. She knew that was ridiculous, but even though he hadn't said a word, she knew Torin was trouble; the kind of trouble she didn't have room in her mind to deal with.

And through these thoughts cut in his crystal clear voice, "Keena, was it?"

She couldn't help but look up and smile, "yes, and you are Torin." She said this shortly as to not look interested. She could only imaging how Torin must have been used to a lot of attention.

"That I am. Torin, the great wielder of swords, stealer of hearts, and wise man of what lies to the East at your service." At this he gave the most charming smile imaginable.

Keena laughed lightly although when she thought more about it she realized what he had said was so egotistical, if she could get beyond that smile she would scow.

"Oh and did I mention I'm modest?" he added in, his Irish twang ringing through those gorgeous vocals.

Keena just gave him a face and waited for him to talk again.

Torin narrowed his eyes slightly. The mistake Keena was making in being indifferent was that Torin Matthias loved a challenge and that was just what she was providing.

"Well then, enough about me, how about you?" his eyes twinkled and he cocked his head slightly to the side giving himself a very innocent 'don't hate be because I'm beautiful', sort of look.

"You already know enough about me. I am Keena, daughter of King Marke here. What more is there to tell?"

"Funny, you two don't look much alike," said Torin. Keena's eyes immediately flashed in both anger and paranoia. She immediately suppressed this, but it was too late. There was very little as far as body language goes that gets missed by Torin.

"Funny, people always say we have the same eyes." It was true they did both have crystal blue eyes. Not quite the same, but good enough for most people's need for genetic verification.

"I suppose," he said unconvinced.

(whatever, dinner ended, you get the point… Now our gallant gang are hanging out at an outdoor welcoming party late that night. There are candles lit everywhere, lighting up the lake, but everything is dark and beautiful.)

Keena walked through the crowd of people wearing her most beautiful silk trimmed gown with her hair pulled up off her neck. She knew that she had dressed up on purpose. She was hoping to get a chance to talk to Melot that night. Although her father still had another day till they announced him as second, there was still a chance he would make his appearance. Then again seeing someone from the dead might startle some of the older villagers present. As she walked about looking for him she suddenly felt strong hands on her shoulders. She turned thinking Melot had found her, but alas, it was Torin's green smiling eyes that met hers.

"Tell me princess," he said cheerfully, "why it is that I have not seen you dance once this evening?"

Keena smiled timidly and looked to the side, "I guess I'm just not really in the mood this evening." A line like that normally sent guys away, but Torin only felt more challenged and thus more interested in perusing her.

"What would one dance hurt?"

"I'm not very good, really."

"Nonsense," he said dragging her out to where the other dancers were assembling to perform a dance. "I am making it my duty tonight to make sure you have some fun. Beautiful girls should never wear such long faces."

It was a cheesy line. So why was she smiling and why the hell was she lifting her arms to begin the dance? They paced about each other to the beat of the lute and harp, occasionally switching partners and then ending up back together. They faced each other, bodies adjacent, spinning in a conjoined circle against an unseen hinge. Torin gave her a smile and quirked his eyebrows and she laughed.

"Looks like our princess has some smiles saved up after all." He said. His lines were pathetically cheesy, but his voice was like velvet so the over all affect was defiantly in his favor. After the dance they shared a glass of wine.

"Lets get out of here," he said.

"What?" Keena was not about to have an affair with this Irish boy.

To her surprise he laughed, "No, not like that, sweetie."

'Damn, why does he have to be so charming,' she thought.

"I've just noticed how you seem to have been looking for escape routs all evening. I figure if I escorted you in a walk around the castle you might benefit from the fresh air."

"I suppose, but just a brief walk." Keena didn't see Melot anywhere. What would a little walk with Torin matter now that there wasn't any other point to remaining at the party?

A/N: Ok, abrupt ending! I know… but I'm about to pass out and typos will just keep getting worse from her out… haha, if anyone wanted to beta this… oh well. Even if there are typos you get the point. Oh god…. The thing about Ireland and England and stuff at this time is that they were all divided up into sections and there was fighting and all this crap about England controlling Ireland. There was no way they were just partying together like everything was A-okay, and there is no way that anything I wrote was even close to being historically accurate. Just consider it extreme historical fiction, K? Man…I'm so tired…

3 you!


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